The Mane 6 Redux
by Durriken
Summary: Summary: Discord has risen again and this time he's not playing around. He's gathered under him a contingent of six ruthless humans from earth. To counter him, Princess Celestia has had the mane 6 gather six humans as well, ones that best match their specific elements. Who are these six humans, why them, and can they stop this crueler Discord? Let's find out. *not a self-insert*
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Bloody Prologue

**XXX**

"Ah, _fuck me_—AGH!"

A hoof smashed into my face and for a brief moment, I blacked out, regaining consciousness only once I'd crashed to the ground on my side, cradling my bleeding muzzle with my own hooves. The pain, oh God, the pain….If I didn't know any better I'd swear she'd me hit with a sledgehammer….

"Ah keep tellin' ya, sugarcube, ya keep leavin' yer left side open like that and this'll all be over quicker than it takes Apple Bloom to make them apple fritters ya love so much."

Applejack smiled down at my pathetic figure with a demented kind of understanding. She understood my agony very well; she just didn't care.

"Ya got five seconds to get yer stuff together 'fore I grind yer face to the dirt."

Knowing this earth ponies words held true, that was all the motivation I needed before I was struggling to stand, my legs wobbling unsteadily. The right side of my face was throbbing relentlessly, swelling no doubt; I could feel the tears coming but held them at bay by blinking furiously. It took a moment but I was soon on all fours, my chest heaving, tail between my hind legs.

I wasn't scared.

Never that.

I just hated pain and for the past couple hours or so it's all the orange earth pony before me saw fit to give out: nice, heaping helpings of pure unfiltered pain, delivered through a series of hoof-strikes and kicks that more often than not left me flat on the ground. My gunmetal silver coat was dented in areas, superseded by purpling bruises that stuck out like little blisters. With my left eye swollen shut, I felt like one big sore that lanced a vomit-worthy sting to my brain with each pulse.

"See? Ah knew ya had it in ya!" Applejack praised, flashing me a smile of white teeth. Noticeably, and much to my chagrin, her pelt was spotless, not a single scratch to be found anywhere. It pissed me off to a new degree but honestly, there was nothing I could do except grit my teeth, dust myself off, and try again. She must have sensed my renewed commitment to bring her harm for she giggled—a noise that sounded strangely odd coming from the hardened pony—and spread her forelegs slightly, lowering her head. "Now that's what Ah like to see. Good ol' fashioned dedication. Now...here we go!"

She merely twitched and vanished from view. Sucking my teeth, I'd only begun to step back when she reappeared in front of me, grinning with an evil flair before she rammed her forehead into mine with an explosion of blood.

My blood.

"GAAAH!"

I reared back on my hindlegs, howling as I felt trickles of hot, sticky liquid cascade down my face. It leaked into my eyes causing further agony, but I looked past it in time to see Applejack drop low, swinging out her leg. She clipped me hard in the shin and I thudded to the ground.

Balls of white light exploded in front of my eyes, mixing almost nauseatingly with the gash in my skull. It was splurging blood and I pressed a hoof to it, sucking my mouth in against the scream begging to be set free.

"Hun," she called out to me with small sigh, "ya gotta pick yerself up. This is takin' _far_ too long fer you to get the basics down pat. Now I done promised the princess that I'd have ya up to speed by the end of the week but it's been _three_ days! Are ya tryin' to make me out to be a liar there, huh?" She laughed and in my mind I could picture her giving me a very edgy, very sinister smile. "Well, sure as the sunshine will rise tomorrow, I, Applejack, have never told a lie, and I ain't 'bout to start now!"

She slammed a hoof into my throat, gagging me.

"_Now git up_."

**XXX**

The princess of the night Luna had already moved the moon into its proper place by the time Applejack called our session quits. Groaning and struggling to keep conscious in the night air, I was laid flat out on my back, limbs fully spread. My coat glistened with both blood and well-earned sweat, and it was perhaps this that caused Applejack to place a hoof over my chest. It was a light touch, nothing too crushing—

"Ya'll still with me?" she asked.

I nodded and she laughed into the night, moving her hoof in soothing circles over my chest.

"Alrigh', you pass fer today. Whenever ya get feelin' back in yer legs, hoof it to bed and we'll pick it up tomorrow. If ya _can't_ make it back to the barn...well, a bit of campin' ain't never hurt nopony."

It was easy to interpret her words to mean 'if you can't drag yourself back then enjoy camping'.

All too soon, I heard her trotting away, just as carefree as a log in the current, until only the silence of the whistling winds was my company. Oddly, when I was sure I was alone I began to laugh; it was more of a haggard cough than anything but I knew what it was and that's all that mattered. My left eye was completely useless now, just a swollen lump of purple flesh while the gash in my forehead pricked every once and again with a dull pain.

I opened my good eye, sweeping the area once. Earlier, Applejack had led me to this barren plain situated just on the edge of the Everfree Forest; it consisted of nothing but tightly packed-earth, perfect for backbreaking wrestling and sparring, which is what this day had been all about. From the word "Go" Applejack had been on me with surprising agility I'd have never thought possible of the earth pony; she flitted in and out my vision like a spark of orange light, delivering blow after blow, many times drawing blood and downing me with one hit.

I...this was all my fault. I had been given a choice. To either accept this, or pass it on to somepony else. Back then, I'd been stupid, too blinded by the phantasmagorical process of what was happening to even consider saying no. But now, as I lay there with my body feeling like one big bruise about to burst, I was having some serious second thoughts….

_Maybe I shoulda just stayed my happy plot home_, I thought dejectedly, groaning when I realized I was using pony-speak. I hated pony speak, with a passion even. _If I was home, I would be safe, I wouldn't be starving, I...I…_

_I wouldn't be here having the time of my life._

Moving was out of the question for about the next hour or so—I couldn't feel my arms or legs—so I lay there in the dark, praying to Celestia that no ravenous creature came lurking from the forest less than a few meters to my side; I'd be nothing more than a free meal, all laid out nice and pretty like a picnic.

The very idea made me green and I found myself struggling despite the inevitable. No way in hay was I going to be some monster's chew-toy! Buck that!

I'd only managed to lift my head when something firm pressed itself to my temple. At once, my brain began rocketing off images of timber wolves—but then I heard a soothing, "Sssh, now. Don't go strugglin' so hard, you'll ruin yer muscles that way, ya lunk head."

Through the blood encrusted onto my eyelashes I stared up into Applejack's smiling face, hardly daring to believe that she'd actually come back for me. I was so sure that she was just a hallucination on the verge of vanishing that I fell still again, watching curiously as she set down a small basket that she'd brought with her. I half expected her to pull out a nail and hammer and get to work finishing me off, but was slightly surprised when she pulled out a small bowl full of rectangular apple pies, at least four of them.

"Big Mac reminded me that ya'll ain't eat nothin' all day," she remarked simply, setting it down next to my head. "Ah started to just leave it be but then figured Celestia wouldn't be none to pleased with me if Ah let ya die cuzza somethin' like that. So…."

She motioned once more at the basket of before standing again. I stared at the morsels, confused out of my skull how hallucinations were able to give off such mouthwatering scents—my stomach instantly began growling, just about ready to sprout its own pair of hooves if I didn't move.

Suddenly, a warm gust of breath was next to my ear and I tensed, ignoring the shooting pain it caused my battered body when Applejack whispered, "Ya'll better enjoy them apple pies. Ah made 'em myself."

For the love of me I couldn't explain why my face began to glow hot, hot and red. When Applejack straightened up, she stared down at my embarrassed form for only a moment before giggling to herself and taking off again, this time at a full gallop that put her as nothing but an orange speck in the distance in no time.

An owl hooted hungrily in the distance. I'd never killed an owl before but I figured if one came flying by trying to grab up my pie then I might just find out if I could. Gritting my teeth, I flipped my body on its side using swinging momentum. My lips were less than an inch from the container and I stuck out a tongue, unnerved at how long it was at first before deciding it didn't matter. I wrapped it around the first pastry tart, nearly blanking out at the crisp flavor that exploded into my mouth.

It was so flaky, so _sweet_, and covered in a light juice that I couldn't penetrate but eagerly licked off the outer layer before taking my first bite. I chewed hastily and swallowed, literally able to feel the only piece of food I'd eaten all day slide down my esophagus where it landed with a tingling _plunk_ in my empty stomach.

_Oh God...what in the hay did she make these with? Crack?_

Almost before I could start laughing I suddenly remembered her words: _"Ya'll better enjoy them apple pies. Ah made 'em myself."_

My brain instantly decoded that message but my stomach and libido were too eager to care at the moment. I devoured all the pies in less than a minute and rolled again onto my back, content for the moment and full.

Life had a funny way of pushing itself in your way, even if you weren't paying attention or you were and just decided to ignore it. Life always found a way to spice things up for better or for worse. And at the moment, I was having a hard time differentiating between the two. No more than a week ago I had been just a regular human, nothing special about me whatsoever, other than my ability to take pain. Why? Well, in order to tell you that story, I've got to start at the beginning.

The beginning of our Summons.

**XXX**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Badge To Remember

A/N: Only the first chapter is first-person. I find it gets old real fast.

**XXX**

Zack bent down and touched his toes, holding the position for a mental count of five before standing again. Sighing, he shook his arms out to the side, bouncing on his bare feet, trying to limber himself up as quickly as possible. It wouldn't do himself justice to go into that last bout without at least _seeming_ like he tried his hardest.

Settling down, he walked towards the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the break room and stared at himself. Dressed in a martial arts gi, Zack was the very definition of lanky with a—in his opinion—handsome face and dark-green pupils. He was never one to grow much body hair but rather liked the bit of stubble showing over his chin; it was a testament that he was really fifteen, finally getting up there in age.

His hair was neck-length and pulled back into a small horsetail. And colored silver. Zack hadn't been born with it—his roots were dark brown—but the seniors thought it funny to dye his hair for him. He didn't remember much about the incident as he'd been drugged during the proceedings but he distinctly recalled a toilet and permanent hair dye. Many suggested he cut it but Zack wasn't ready to make that move yet.

Why the supposedly 'fun' prank, or however the seniors explained it to the principle? Because Zack was a brony. Not that he flaunted it around like some of those other annoying fans of the show did, but he did carry around a black and white Rainbow Dash pin on the right sleeve of his school uniforms. Apparently, that was enough of a reason for him to be ridiculed and he went through the same motions day in and day out, adamantly refusing to quit wearing his pin.

He was not the only brony in his school—the fandom was too big for that—but he was the only one who was publicly known. The other so called 'bronies' hid themselves in amongst the haters, openly berating Zack whenever the moment seemed appropriate, doing anything they could to take the pressure off of themselves. Not really caring, Zack couldn't blame those cowards for 'hiding their power levels' or whatever the fuck the internet called it.

Who would really want to be ridiculed on the daily for enjoying what made them happy?

While most of the hate came verbally—the usual "you're a faggot" defense—a good majority tried putting their hands on him. For a time, that worked and Zack held daily meetings with the floor, lockers, walls, tables—it seemed every hard piece of stationary wanted to have a little word with him. After all that it came as a surprise when someone finally tried to rip off his pin only to be put into a submission hold that cracked their arm at the femur.

Given the reason behind it, Zack only suffered a week's suspension but when he returned to school no one felt much like bothering him anymore, least of all placing their hands on him. The news that he was adept in the ways of Wing Chun hadn't been something that Zack tried to hide but when he came back, he was shocked to find the entire school knowledgable of his other hobby. The physical threats widdled away into the usual sneers and insults.

"Oh, snap...almost forgot." Going back to his blue rucksack on the bench, he rustled through it for a moment before pulling out his emblem of standing, that same Rainbow Dash pin he'd been wearing everyday for two years. He fastened it to his right arm and stared at his reflection again, smirking slightly. "Now we're ready."

Despite the badge, his favorite of the mane six was not Rainbow Dash. It was Applejack. So why the badge? His mother had given it to him four years ago, trying to surprise him with what she thought was his favorite pony. He would have told her it was actually Applejack had she not been on her deathbed, tears in her eyes as she explained how happy she was that she had finally managed to buy him what he'd always wanted.

That was the day she died. That was the day Zack vowed that he would forever wear his Rainbow Dash pin. He wore it as a symbol of remembrance towards the woman who gave her very best to him whenever possible, who went out of her way to see him smile regardless of the tax put upon herself. Aside from memory, Zack wore it so he would never forget what he was fighting for, the reason behind why he shamelessly begged his uncle and aunt to enroll him in the martial arts branch of Wing Chun.

His mother hadn't died of natural causes. She was only thirty-six, had a lot of life ahead of her. She had been walking, on her way back from the grocery store when—from what the police report explained—four people attacked her not more than a quarter mile away from the parking lot. Beat her to the ground for the food she'd bought with the last of their money. Zack's father had long since abandoned them—he couldn't remember a single thing about the mannequin tagged 'father' by his mom—but knew he had taken everything they had leaving them in a constant state of squalor.

Despite what had happened, she was in good spirits even as Zack burst into her hospital room, having run all the way from school after being informed of what happened. Back then, he didn't understand how, even as her life ebbed away, how she could smile about being able to protect a crummy two dollar badge….

Now, older and wiser beyond his years, Zack had a more developed outlook on things, case in point why he never retaliated when verbally or physically assaulted. Unless they put hands on his pin then it was deemed superfluous. No one except his mother's killers would know his strength….

Zack bowed towards the mirror then turned and began walking down a brightly lit hallway, a series of mundane thoughts occupying his head instead of what really should. Namely winning this last round of the martial arts tournament for his school. When news got out that he was advanced in the ways of Wing Chun it came as no surprise that the founding members of the schools martial arts committee came calling. They asked—begged and pleaded more like—for him to join, explaining that they were sick of getting their asses handed to them by the other schools.

_Why did I join again?_

That was what he wondered as he stepped out from an alcove underneath the bleachers. All at once, like he had been deaf before, he could hear the thundering noise of several hundred people screaming, feet pounding, stands shaking. He ignored that and faced the square, roped off stage set up in the core of the vast gymnasium. On his side and dressed in the customary emerald school colors were seated the students, faculty, and parents of Ion High; opposite them, and clamoring in a wave of dark scarlet, sat the rivaling school of Portland.

Already in the ring was his last challenger and the announcer, a middle-aged man, short cut brown hair, and dressed in a black tuxedo that was far too ostentatious for such a trifling tournament. As he stepped into the light, the chanting began—

"_Zack...Zack...Zack...Zack…._"

He didn't lift a hand to acknowledge it nor did he smile encouragingly. The people chanting were the very same ones who always taunted him, only now that he was fighting for their honor, so to speak, he was suddenly worthy of being hailed.

Hypocrisy was indeed an ugly thing and Zack had no time for it.

Taking one of the elastic-like ropes in his hand, he flung himself into the ring and strode up to the announcer, his opponent doing the same. As they neared he saw that it was a determined looking girl his age, one with blonde-haired fixed into a winsome pixie cut and tense sapphire blue opals that were trained on nothing but him.

_Hm. Blonde hair, blue eyes...lets see if this cutie's stupid or not_.

"Ladies and gentlemen! After a grueling day of more than twenty matches we are finally down to the final event! The climax to the interschool martial arts tournament!" exclaimed the announced, speaking into the mic he held. His words were met with great fanfare and Zack looked around. "The finalists are Zack Summers from Io High—"

The green side erupted into applause and cheers.

"—while bringing up the Portland division is Miss Jennifer Gertlin!"

This time the scarlet side began stomping their feet, flags of red waving frantically through the air.

The announcer bent down between the two combatants, "Is there anything either of you would like to say before we begin?"

Expecting the girl to say nothing, Zack was taken by surprise when she snatched the mic and jabbed a finger at the badge on his arm. "What...is that supposed to be?" she questioned harshly, tossing the mic.

Without any forethought, Zack snatched it mid-flight, brought it to his lips, and replied, "It's a brony badge with Rainbow Dash over it. What's it matter?"

He tossed it back, ignoring how his side of the gymnasium fell into a collective embarrassed silence before starting up again.

"You watch that show? What kind of—it's for three year old girls."

She tossed it back.

"Then you show me a three-year-old who can process that show's dialogue and mature innuendo," Zack said easily, unperturbed. "It's geared towards girls age six and above."

The mic was flung again.

"Then why do you watch it? You're not a little girl...or are you?"

She went to toss the mic but Zack backhanded it to the mat where it bounced once, twice, then straight off the edge. The cheering from the sidelines was quelled down to a few confused and scattered murmurs with many people putting hands to their mouths.

The look over Zack's face was passive as the announcer scrambled for his mic. "I'm a brony. That's all you need to know." He pulled one arm in close to his side and extended his other hand out, palm up. He curled his fingers twice. "Let's go."

Smirking, Jennifer began to bounce on her toes, lifting both arms. "Don't go down too fast now…_brony_."

_Huh...Mui Thai_.

Before the announcer could fully raise the microphone to his lips to signal the start of their match, Zack and Jennifer were already running towards another, their bare feet pounding over the elastic ring—

XXX—XXX

Blood gleamed in splotches underneath the gymnasium's artificial lighting.

"HA!"

"HUAH!"

Zack delivered a powerful palm strike to Jennifer's lower jaw; he barely had time to enjoy the feel of contact before her knee crashed into his chin, painfully rattling all of his teeth to a breaking point.

As though being rammed into by a truck, Zack went stumbling back, dropping down to one knee to brace himself. He felt something metallic floating in his mouth and spat a scarlet glob onto the mat. The pain he could handle; it was the fact that his vision had been disorientated that made Zack scowl as he climbed back to his feet.

Across from him and wiping blood away from her bottom lip, Jennifer fixed him with a skin-chilling glare. "Didn't your momma ever teach you not to hit girls?" she jeered, falling back into her fighting stance.

Zack's chest tightened, his jaw firming. "She may have mentioned once or twice…."

"Did you ever think two mere kids could put up such a fight, audience?" the announcer yelled into the mic, sounding absolutely dumbfounded yet amazed. He gestured wildly at Zack and Jennifer, both of whom began to slowly circle one another. "These two titans of the arts have been fighting nonstop for the past forty minutes! Even though they're beaten, bruised, and bloody, neither is showing any signs of backing down! I think we may have to instigate some sort of time limit on this one, folks!"

"NO!" shouted Zack and Jennifer in unison.

"Let it ride," muttered Zack.

"It wouldn't do our schools justice to let it end in a tie," said Jennifer, her chest heaving.

In silence, the announcer glanced towards the judging table situated just outside the ring, stationed so that they had an up close and personal view of the exchanges. Behind it sat three professional looking people, two male and one female, and it was the female who nodded crisply.

"And so it will continue folks!" the announcer proclaimed with renewed invigoration. "This is truly a battle worthy of the greats—how long can these two go at each other?"

That very same question had been on Zack's mind for the past ten or so minutes. So much of his body hurt that it was a chore to continue breathing; he felt like one big, pulsating bruise. A while back, Jennifer had struck him in the nose with her elbow; it hurt like a knife to his brain and blood still continued to leak onto his gi, less than before but enough for him to keep snorting it back up. Across from him, wavering on her feet but still determined, Jennifer had trails of blood leaking from her busted right ear, a mark of Zack's counterstrike against his nose. She had to be partly deaf.

_This girl's got more game than I thought. Shit...and here I thought she'd be as easy as her teammates…._A smile couldn't help but show itself through Zack's blood encrusted lips at the sudden realization. He hadn't fought anyone so near his level in such a long time that it was almost a foreign practice to bring everything he had to the table instead of merely matching his opponent move for move.

The cheering from the spectators had long since been reduced to an annoying hum in the backdrop. Those idiots rooting him on solely to make their school look better...how would they feel if he just took a dive, conceded defeat on the spot?

The option was tantalizing...but then Applejack's face swam over his crossed eyes. From underneath her trademark cowboy hat, she smirked at him, like his current state of agony was something to laugh at.

_Look at you, sugarcube. Are ya really gonna let some little filly whip up on ya? Land sakes, how're ya ever gonna find what yer lookin' fer with that kinda commitment? _

And just like that...the urge to win was ignited—

Jennifer's fist burst through Applejack's face causing it to dissipate. Instincts taking over, Zack swerved to the left, wincing when her knuckles grazed his cheek with such force that the skin tore; he hooked an arm around hers, put his foot behind her advanced leg, and placed his other hand under her chin—

"You gotta go down now," he whispered and in one dizzying motion he spun like a top, taking them both to the mat with a ground-rumbling _thud_. The intended purpose was to slam into her with the weight of his body, possibly crushing her chest cavity, but he stayed himself at the last second, slamming a hand to the mat to soften the blow if only slightly.

The landing left him sitting on her mid-section, dripping blood unceremoniously down onto her as he clutched her throat with one hand, the other pulled back and in a fist. "Do you...concede?" he panted, ready to strike her full-on in the face if the answer was anything but positive.

It was clear that the wind had been knocked out of Jennifer; she was gasping like a fish out of water, her face contorted in terrible agony. Her legs twitched underneath Zack so he knew no spinal damage had occurred. As he waited for her to regain her breath, he only faintly became aware of the fact that the crowd for his school was going crazy with cheers and celebration, as though the match had already been decided. The announcer was head over heels with excitement as he explained Zack's reversal in detail. It was all background noise and Zack pushed it from his ears, narrowing his weary eyes at the girl below him.

"You have five seconds to answer...do you concede?"

He felt her throat vibrate in his hold and before he could stop her she'd already spit a glob of blood into his face.

"Did Miss Gertlin just hock _blood_ in Mr. Summer's face?" the announcer questioned, his tone heavily coated in disgust.

A combined groan rose up from the Io High side while the Portland visitors laughed.

It took all the self-control that his sensei had taught him for Zack not to imbed his fist in Jennifer's skull and just deal with the jail time that would come with it. While silence reigned around them, both sides eager to see how he would handle that unsporting act, Zack unclenched his aloft hand and lowered it to her exposed collar bone, his unnaturally soft causing her to shiver.

"W-what are you d-doing?" she grunted, cheeks flaring red despite herself.

"Give up or I'll rip off your gi and leave you naked," he muttered, letting his fingers drip down her admittedly smooth skin.

Despite her ear injury she seemed to hear that just fine and gnashed her teeth. "That's not proper sportsmanship—you'll be disqualified."

She sounded like she very much wanted to be believe that the consequences for such a thing would sway him.

Wrong.

"You just spit blood in my face," he reminded her tersely. "And honestly, winning for my school doesn't mean jack all to me. I was basically forced into this so the outcome of winning or losing is meaningless. I only fought to test myself, and you helped me see I have a long way to go," Zack said, beginning to tug loosely on her gi jacket. "I'll lose, yeah, but your peers and everyone from my school will see you barebacked. Imagine that spreading through facebook and twitter…."

Jennifer gnashed her teeth like a cornered panther.

"I...I…."

XXX—XXX

"She really hadn't been that bad," Zack confessed to himself as he walked down the sidewalk; there were rows of houses to his left and, across the street, more houses, all of them properly delivering the message that 'yes, the people who live here are rich as hell'.

It came as no surprise to him when Jennifer conceded on the spot, mentally beaten to the point where she let slip a few angry tears at the way she had lost. Sure, it had been a dirty way to win but continuing any longer and Zack knew broken bones would have become part of the fight and that was the last thing he needed. After changing clothes, listening to the disinclined congratulations, and participating in the phony party, wherein he was pushed to the side so everyone could admire the trophy won for them, that the 'brony' won for them, Zack found that Jennifer had waited for him outside of school.

Her words for him were not pleasant and, despite how calm she seemed about it, were filled with a type of rage that suggested she were seconds from shooting him. He was called 'a deviant, a little girl hopelessly obsessed with a little girl show who didn't know the true merits of winning honorably'. After listening to her rant for nearly a quarter hour, Zack told her he had to get home only to have her respond with, "I _will_ fight you again. And I _will_ win."

That was a threat, of course, but like so many before it, Zack didn't put much stock in it other than adding her face to the very long list of people who wished to harm him. It seemed that list grew on the daily.

Luckily, he wouldn't have to deal with his aunt and uncle as they were away on a business trip. Zack almost snorted. Business trip, right. Just another one of their excuses to get away from him. He'd always wondered why they had never helped him and his mother as she and his aunt were sisters. Apparently, from what his mother told him before her passing, she and her sister didn't get along very well due to circumstances concerning their father. It was all too complicated for Zack at such a young age so he hadn't bothered asking her to elaborate further.

He found out when he was reluctantly taken in by them that their father had split a vast amount of money between the two women. While his mom worked on saving hers, his aunt had apparently gone crazy with it (or, in her words, "merely indulged in all life had to offer"). His mother, being the kindhearted woman Zack knew her to be, then gave up a large portion to her sister who once again blew through that as well but found luck by marrying into wealth. When Zack's father left them, stealing everything that was once worth anything, his mother came by asking for help. It was then his aunt decided that the circumstance befallen her sister were due to her own negligence and failure to find a suitable man.

She turned her and her child away with, "If I helped you out of this then what you learn, sister?"

Staying with his aunt and uncle made Zack sick on a level that far transcended just spending hours on his knees vomiting into the toilet. It hurt mentally, drained him physically, knowing he had to live within such close proximity to those who were inadvertently the cause of his mother's death. If they had only helped, returned what they had been so graciously given….

Just thinking about it caused a spring of anger to erupt within Zack and he struck out a hand sending his aunt and uncles mailbox, which was meticulously handcrafted to look like a castle and cost over four hundred dollars, crashing to the sidewalk. Almost robotically, Zack trotted over it, smirking as he envisioned the horrified looks that would surely adorn his dear aunt and uncles faces when they returned and saw their treasure in rubble.

By the time he walked down the ridiculously long path through the grass that led to the front porch, Zack was tired beyond belief. He'd left school after winning without seeking medical aid. Probably not the smartest thing he could have done as his nose throbbed with an unholy agony; his right shin felt splintered; and he would swear one of Jennifer's kicks had broken a rib or two. He wasn't coughing blood, a good sign, but the pain had his stomach flipping with nausea.

He put his key inside the lock and turned the knob. The smell of tasty treats quickly assaulted his aching nose along with the rush of cool air that circulated the house. Aside from his suddenly watery mouth, now Zack's stomach clenched with dread. His aunt and were...home? Damn, what if they saw their mailbox?

Like a deer in the headlights, he stood frozen in the foyer that led into the living room. Swallowing, he followed it, cautiously, realizing in the all the fear he held that he had not seen his uncle's black ferrari in the driveway.

They weren't home.

But somebody else was.

And...they were baking treats?

Clinging to the wall, Zack crouched and inched along it, squeezing behind the numerous chairs and sofas that decorated the vast living room. The kitchen opened through a saloon-style door, the ones used for bars in western times; he went to peek under it when the sudden clatter of dropped pots made him duck back, his heart pounding.

"Horseapples," fumed a slightly annoyed tone from within the kitchen, "...how do them human work these hands? It's a wonder Ah been able to make anythin' 'round here!"

Zack's mind nearly exploded. That voice...he _knew_ that voice; he _loved_ that voice. It was the voice of…of….

_That's not possible. Quit thinking stupid, it'll get you killed_, his mind berated him, and he clenched his leg muscles, preparing to pounce. _It's an intruder, Zack...and they've got to go down. Hard_.

Licking his lips and exhaling slowly, Zack began a countdown from five in his head. The moment he reached one he whirled around the corner, throwing his shoulder into the swinging doors—the kitchen was a moderate size with an island that took up a great majority of the floor, and it was on the opposite side that Zack made out a bright orange blur as it rushed up to meet him—

"_Son of a_—"

He took a surprised step back, scowling at his hesitancy, before throwing his palm forward, aiming at the person's head. He might as well have been offering his hand for shake for all the damage it did when the intruder knocked it up and away with the back of one of their hands while they grabbed him by the face with the other.

"Yer a feisty one, ain't cha?" the intruder asked rhetorically.

Zack couldn't answer even if he wanted to, what with the hand clenched tight around his face, cutting off air and circulation, adding unbearable pressure to his swollen nose. Glancing through the fingers that held him, Zack beheld a sight that stilled his oncoming struggle, his eyes widening in disbelief.

A woman, taller than he, stood before him. That by itself was not what struck him as odd. It was her skin, which was colored a healthy bright orange, that shocked him the most, followed by her hauntingly emerald iris's that shined with a type of dare-devilish exuberance. Her face was of a porcelain beauty, smooth edges and a cute nose with flared nostrils like she was inhaling his scent. White freckles adorned her cheeks and, as his eyes traveled up, he saw that covering her lengthy golden-blonde hair was a leathery cowboy hat. She wore a plaid shirt of red and brown with a pair of blue daisy-dukes.

Again, Zack's mind fizzled. _There's...there's just no way! But she looks just like her, sounds like her—_

The woman holding him let loose a loud laugh, then squeezed his face harder. "So how's it taste, sugarcube?" she asked, her voice sending thrills down Zack's spine. "Mind ya, it ain't the best of what Ah can do considerin' these newfangled hands."

It was only then that Zack realized that this woman had shoved something into his mouth when she grabbed him. It was flaky...and tangy...and..._sweet_. Stomach superseding all else, he began chewing the piece of apple tart forced on him and found it almost tear-jerkingly delicious.

"There we go," cooed the woman and when she released him, Zack dropped to the tiled floor on his bottom, jaw working feverishly.

He stared up at this woman, this intruder. She...had very powerful looking legs; her calf muscles were incredibly toned, which explained her speedy takeoff earlier. He knew...just by taking one look at her he knew this woman had him in every category that pertained to achieving victory in a fight. She could have quite easily snapped his neck earlier and, as he sat there chewing what tasted like a little slice of heaven, he wondered why she hadn't.

"What's yer name, stallion?" she asked, turning and walking back towards the main sink area.

For a moment, Zack's eyes were trained on her lithe walk, how refined it seemed, not to mention her backside. He shook his head clear of such thoughts and swallowed his mouth empty. "Zack. Zack Summers."

"What a name," she remarked with a content sigh as she set to washing the dishes she'd used to make her treats. "Summer...apples grow best in summer. Why ain't yer first name Summer?"

"What's _your_ name?" Zack staged, ignoring hers.

She glanced back at him with a wink that made his heart skip a beat. "Sugar, ya already know my name. Ah been in yer room—seen so many pictures of myself Ah almost didn't know what was happenin'."

"Applejack." The word fell from Zack's mouth like a stone, hard and foreign like it was first time he'd uttered it. "You...you're Applejack."

"Yeah, Ah know that," she said with a slight giggle. "Now Ah'm gonna go out on a limb here and say Ah'm yer—what's the phrase 'round here?—fav mare or somehin'?"

Just hearing her say that caused the color to raise in Zack's face but he was left with no words suitable enough for an answer. His brain was still desperately trying to work out how one of the mane six from a children's show was here in real life, and in _human_ form no less. Had the pain in his nose reached such a pitch that he'd begun to halluci—

His stomach grumbled with an all consuming roar, obviously hungry for more pastries and not only did it cause the woman named Applejack to snort but it cemented the idea that yes...for some reason or other, this was really happening!

But that woman, she couldn't be Applejack. Applejack was a pony!

"Sounds like somepony enjoyed my apple tarts," she concluded with a satisfied nod. "Ah was powerful worried cuz Ah've nevuh had 'hands' before. Wasn't sure how it'd turn out."

"This...this doesn't make sense," Zack finally managed to muster, gripping both sides of head as he felt a very constricting migraine settling in.

"No, little hayseed," and Applejack turned around, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed a coy smile spread through her gleaming lips, "what doesn't make sense is that ya say Ah'm yer favorite—which Ah must say is most flatterin' and all—but yer wearin' a Rainbow Dash pin. Mind explainin'?"

_Ah, shit._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: She's Got Moxie

**XXX**

This was crazy.

No, crazy was too light a term.

This was _bucking_ insane.

Utterly dumbfounded, Zack sat on the edge of his bed, watching with listless eyes as the orange-skinned woman named Applejack moved here and there in the spacious room, picking up various objects with nothing short of confusion resonating in her green opals. He still couldn't believe it—honestly, he didn't want to. This had to be a side-affect of his earlier fight with that Jennifer chick. Even if his stomach did happen to be filled with mouth-watering pastries crafted by this woman there was just no way.

_Let's look at this realistically,_ he thought to himself as Applejack dropped down to her knees in front of him to begin rummaging through a dresser situated next to the door. His eyes found her rump rather quickly. Knowing this was nothing but an apparition, he felt no such embarrassment and continued staring as he waged war in his mind. _I don't know who this woman is but it's clear she's suffering from a skin disease. She's orange colored for God's sake, she should be in the hospital. How did she even get in my house? There was no sign of forced entry—wait...could she be one of Jennifer's friends? Is this...could this be part of her revenge?_

A thousand scenarios played out over Zack's aching mind, each one flashing by too quickly to grasp at a level of understanding. He was snatched back to the present when his bed suddenly shifted and he tilted, his shoulder bumping into 'Applejacks'.

"What in tarnation is _this_, Summer?" and she lifted a plushie of her pony form. It was incredibly detailed and still had the sales tag on it.

Sitting up, Zack stared at it with half-lidded eyes, then up into Applejack's face, then down to the plushie again. He simply ignored the fact that she called him 'Summer'; she wasn't real, what did it matter? "That...would be...a little doll of—" He stopped almost lethargically, not really wanting to say 'you' as that would imply he believed this woman next to him to be the human-form of his favorite mare. "It's a doll of Applejack."

"Oh," was all the woman said before she uttered the most cutest 'squee' Zack had ever heard and began playfully tossing it up and down. "So this little cute thing is suppose' tuh be me?"

And here was where he had to set her straight on a few things. "No. It's meant to be _Applejack_, the element of honesty from My Little Pony. I don't who you are or why you seem to think your name is Applejack but I'd appreciate it if you left my house," he said bluntly, pointing towards his room door.

It almost annoyed him when she continued to play with his doll. He could feel a strange sense of diabetes coming over him when she brought it to her chest, nuzzling and cuddling it with soft cooing sounds. She seemed so into it, so enthralled, like she was safe so long as she hugged his plushie.

Zack could feel his face glowing and sighed. He faced straight ahead, narrowing his eyes at the dresser, which had been left in a state of chaos after all her rummaging with clothes and pants hanging out of each compartment. "What's your sister's name?"

The question came quick, but the woman's answer was just as fast.

"Applebloom."

_Damn it._

"Who's your brother?"

"Big Macintosh."

_Crap_.

"Do you have a granny?"

"Ah do."

"Name?"

"Granny Smith Apple."

_Shit._

By now, Zack was pinching the bridge of his nose, his chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly. "There's this stallion who lives in Appleloosa whose name begins with a 'b'—"

"Ya'll mean Braeburn. He's one of mah most trusted cousins, Summer."

_Fuck my life…._

Throwing his head back, Zack sighed, exhaling all of his stress and worries in one long breath. Asking her all of those questions still didn't do much to sway him; any fan of the series would've been able to answer them easily. No...he needed a dedicated way to see if this woman was telling the truth. He automatically knew nothing in this world was set in stone, what with all the paranormal sightings and unexplainable phenomena that happened on the daily, but he would be damned if he fell for it just because the subject matter revolved around the favorite character from one of his favorite shows.

"Alright...alright...if you're really who you say you are then—"

"Pardon, sugarcube, but can Ah have this here thing?" she interrupted, her country twange causing Zack to stutter slightly in his response.

"I—but that's my favorite mare," he protested weakly.

Blinking like he'd just spoken in a foreign language, the woman tentatively set the plushie down and arched her body towards him, placing a hand on his leg for support. Zack's first instinct was to grip her by the wrist and flip her to the ground but the earlier encounter in the kitchen reminded him that this woman was stronger. Still, he straightened his back, refusing to move even when she brought her face to his; he could see those glistening lips begin to part, a rush of candied apple breath causing him to unconsciously inhale all he could.

_Damn it, calm down! _

"Yer a strange one, Summer," she whispered huskily, adopting a half-lidded seductive look. She suddenly inclined her head, letting her lips coast ever so teasingly over Zack's nose and she giggled when he visibly shuddered. "The real thing's in front of ya and ya'll wanna hold onto the doll?"

Pressing his index finger to her forehead, Zack inched her back, out of his comfort zone. He was just a man and even if this woman was delusional and schizophrenic he couldn't deny she was terribly beautiful, even if she did have orange-tinged skin. It almost begged him to believe her claim but he had one last way to make sure.

And God help him, he was both going to enjoy the hell of this and hate himself at the same time.

"You can't have it, end of story," he declared, bypassing how she pouted, nevertheless squeezing the doll into her once again. "And my name is Zack, not Summers. I don't care what it reminds you of. Now...if you're really who you say you are then show me...sh-show me…."

Perfect time to get tongue-tied. Zack could feel himself blushing as he vigorously worked his lips to form the correct words. Without realizing it, he was making wild pulling motions with his hands, sputtering incoherently. For a moment, the woman merely observed him like one would an animal behind bars, her porcelain face neutral until a little 'oh' passed her lips. Even with understanding, she didn't blush or look flustered and that only made it worse for Zack who had expected her to show at least a little bit of embarrassment to match his own.

"Ah see...ya'll want to see mah cutie mark," she said matter-of-factly.

Zack slowly nodded, feeling his face burning hot. "Yes," he answered, forcing himself to sound composed, put together. The rational side of his mind felt it fitting to point out that anyone could tattoo on a cutie mark, and that raised an unsettling argument that questioned his perversion. Was he really doing this to prove her wrong, or because he wanted to see what those daisy dukes were hiding?

_This chick is clearly off her freaking rocker and all I'm doing is proving her wrong before she gets the boot, _he told himself firmly, barely noticing that the woman had stood, her hands fumbling with the leather belt of her shorts.

His mind seized, heart stuttered. "Wh-what are you d—" he began but instantly switched questions mid-stride, "you're going to do it? _Seriously_?"

Poking her tongue out to the side, the woman nodded, all of her focus for trying to work those accursed buckles. "It's just mah cutie-mark, back in ponyville we see each other's all the time," she explained casually, sucking her teeth in annoyance whenever her fingers fumbled. "Pony feathers...these...infernal..._hands_….Ah insisted on comin' without these here fabrics but Celestia, shoot, Ah thought she'd had a stroke at the suggestion. Said ya'll here in this world wouldn't take kindly to it—Ah just don't see all the fuss. Coverin' up? Why? Jus' be honest wit yerself."

Her face lit up with fulfillment when, after a good amount of struggling with appendages both new and foreign to her, she finally managed to undo the belt and the only button. She was just pulling down the zipper when Zack moved, gently placing his hands over hers. When she looked up at him, puzzled, there was no longer any blush in Zack's cheeks, the trepidation had left him completely.

He felt shamed. His honor as a man felt dented, and that was more painful than the agony Jennifer had put him through.

"It's okay," he uttered, refusing on his life to second-glance the sliver of orange underwear she'd managed to flash him with. His integrity wouldn't allow it to be done. "It's okay," he repeated softly, staring deep into her confused emerald eyes. "I believe you now...Applejack."

At those words, Applejack let slip a coy smile that set Zack's heart racing. "Ya don't say. And what made ya'll come around?"

"A lot of things," Zack began stoutly, absentmindedly shooing her hands away so he could fix her shorts for her. Within three-seconds, it was buttoned and fastened again. At his quickness, Applejack regarded him like some sort of hero. He half-smiled at her misplaced fascination, wondering why he'd ever doubted her. "I knew...from the very beginning I knew it had to be you but I didn't want to accept it. I figured I had gone insane, that somehow my strong feelings for Applejack—for you, I guess—had created some sort of twisted tulpa."

Without a word of warning, he reached out taking a few loose strands of blonde hair into in his hand, enjoying the silky smooth texture as it slid through his fingers.

"What's a tupla?" she wondered sincerely, turning her head to offer up more of her hair to play with.

Zack chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, you're not one. The tulpa idea only lasted for a few minutes until I ate your apple treats, those were dang good by the way," he threw in and she smiled in return. "Then I was convinced you were just some crazy ass girl with a skin condition and overly fanatic unhealthy fixation over a cartoon character. But then...I dunno, it's just...what you said when you were trying to pull down your shorts...you were being honest, like your element...and I felt it…."

And now Zack could feel his heart swelling, a dryness sinking into his throat that hindered his talking. A drop of blood slid from his aching nostril and, stunned, he wiped it away. Damn, that Jennifer girl hit hard.

"Now I'm going to be honest and say...I don't think you're part of my screwed up mind, I don't believe you're a figment brought on by the pain of almost getting my ass handed to me, and I don't think you're some extremely autistic chick who, for reasons I haven't figured out, was stalking me. I believe you are Applejack."

This woman with the glowing orange skin and angelic face smiled. Almost too fast to catch, she bent forward, placing her warm lips to his nose; it only lasted an instant but Zack felt a bolt of lightning race from the point where her lips touched all the way up to his brain.

It took all of his martial arts training not to simply collapse on the spot—she smelled so sweetly of apples—but he managed somehow.

"What was that for?" he asked, forcing his heartbeat to slow. The pain had lessened considerably and he was thankful.

"Ah knew ya'll were the right choice," she concluded as though settling a disagreement that Zack was not aware of.

"Right choice for what?"

"Well...Ah don't aim tuh worry ya none, Zack, but—"

"You can call me Summer if you want," interrupted Zack on a whim, shrugging.

Applejack flashed him a quick smile of pearly whites and tipped her hat. "Much 'preciated, Summer. Now like Ah was sayin', this next bit might put the fear in ya," she began and Zack scoffed.

"I've had a whole school hate my guts and try to beat me on the regular, I've lived on the streets for long stretch of time—got shot once, and now I've got the humanized form of my favorite mare standing in front of me...honestly, I don't think anything you can say will shake me, Applejack."

After he finished, Zack took notice when Applejack began blushing, her eyes widening in surprise before she glanced off to the side. He quirked an eyebrow. The hell was that about?

"You okay there?" he asked slowly, not wanting to startle her.

She nodded sheepishly, inhaling deeply before letting it go. The blush vanished and she faced him with a pensive expression. "If that's how ya'll feel, fine. Ah've been sent here to tell ya'll that Equestria is—"

_Ding dong!_

The sudden noise caused Zack to skip forward into Applejack but she caught him bracingy by the shoulders. Silence reigned for a couple seconds until the doorbell rang again. Zack stared up at Applejack and she stared back.

"Expecting anybody?" he suddenly asked with a small grin.

"Ah...Ah think so?"

The way she answered put Zack into a state of unease so he told her to stay in his room while he made his way down the hallway, through the living room, and down the foyer. His mind was still trying to figure out why Applejack had gotten so flustered earlier as he called out, "Who is it?"

"Zack! Zack, open the door! We gotta talk!"

_Feminine voice. Not my bitch of an aunt. Don't have female friends. Definitely not Jennifer_. All these facts shot off like bullets and he precisely evaluated them until he could find no face to match the desperate sounding girl calling out to him.

Against better judgment he turned the knob, pulled the door back, and stared quizzically at the girl on his aunt and uncle's porch. She was about his height, maybe shorter, with mocha colored skin, queer lavender eyes and hair that was a glossy black with purple ends; it was styled in ponytails that were braided together in the back.

"It's about time!" she fumed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Look, we need to talk!"

Zack blinked. "Talk? Talk about what? Who are you?"

"What the hell do you mean 'who am I'?" she raged, flushing slightly. "I'm Moxie!"

He noted her attire fell into the gothic genre, something he did not care for but had to admit he did like her Mary-Janes. "That name does nothing for me, chick."

A look of supreme hurt flashed over Moxie's face—then she was scowling, hands on her hips as she tilted them. "Whatever! Play dumb all you want—I got a serious problem here!"

_No where as serious as what's in my bedroom_, Zack thought, mentally praying that Applejack wouldn't come running at all this chick's yelling. "Look, I don't know you so your problems don't mean—"

"I've got this strange woman at my house who's swearing up and down that she's Twilight Sparkle!" Moxie yelled over him. "She got purple skin and some sort of horn growing out of her forehead!"

In the process of slamming the door in this loudmouthed girl's face, Zack froze, his eyes bugging. He felt a rock drop into his stomach.

"What...what did you just say?"

"Look, I know it's sounds totally crazy," began Moxie, rolling her eyes and lifting her hands in a sign of surrender, "but I'm telling you the truth!"

_She's not lying_, said a tiny voice in Zack's mind and he jerked. _You know she's not. You know who this girl is. Remember._

Almost robotically, Zack stepped to the side. He hadn't the slightest clue what was going on—regardless of what his conscious told him—but he knew...somehow he knew this Moxie girl was being straight forward with him.

Now, he wanted answers, and the only person—mare?—who could possibly bring sense to this situation was in his bedroom.

"Come on in, Moxie," he offered, extending a hand. She stared at him in stupefaction, probably not expecting him to come around so soon. "I don't know what's going on but we should go see Applejack."

Her jaw dropped. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me."

**XXX**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Amorously Scientific and Vague Promises

**XXX**

"I'm not kidding you, M—" and Zack stopped himself as he closed the door, double and triple-locking it with the deadbolt attached. This girl sweeping past down the foyer... regardless of what that little voice in the back of his mind said, he still didn't remember her and felt it weird to even pronounce her na—

He bumped smack dab into her and threw out a hand to the adjacent wall in order to catch himself. Seconds from just pushing her to the side, anything to reclaim his spot at Applejack's side before these questions left his tired mind, Moxie whirled on the heels of her shoes, the initial shock gone and replaced instead by a growing annoyance.

"You... you really don't remember me, do you?" It was a question, yeah, but just by staring into her violet eyes, Zack knew she expected no answer and thus remained silent. When he did, she reared back a taught hand as though she wanted to hit him; like a fly to light, his eyes found it, narrowing into slits as countless reversal moves came to mind, any of which would leave her with a broken arm.

But she didn't hit him. No, her very fingers trembled with obvious desire, yet she let her arm drop limply with an almost defeated sigh. She stared up at him blankly and he stared back, confused.

"Apparently, they were telling the truth when they said you suffered a bit of amnesia early on in the year." Her words were a mutter, barely distinguishable and clearly meant for her rather than him. Zack knew the incident she was referring too yet other matters kept him from asking for an elaboration. She seemed to come to the same conclusion, only saying, "Well... when you eventually remember in detail who I am, it'll be too late…."

To this, Zack tilted his head, extending his arm down the foyer, signaling her to keep walking, which she did. "I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about, Mox, but I'm rarely ever late."

XXX

Arms crossed, Zack leaned against the dresser next to his bedroom, watching listlessly as Moxie gushed over the woman who she immediately accepted as Applejack without even so much a prevalent question. She walked right into the room, was greeted by Applejack's heart stopping "Pleasure tuh meet'cha, sugarcube", and instantly snatched up a pen and notepad, settling down on the bed next to her to begin scribbling notes at a frightening pace.

Zack recalled her saying that Twilight Sparkle had shown up at her house and it wasn't hard to put two and two together. Outside of the initial confusion of why Applejack would choose him, Zack felt Moxie and Twilight a good match for one another; they were both deadly smart from what he could recall of the girl and the both of them shared a disturbing tendency to flip out when things weren't quite... _right_.

_But those are traits most humans on this world have...so why her specifically? _The question bounced around in Zack's skull with no answer to catch it. Just... what did he and Moxie possess that made them different from all the others there? Others who probably followed the show far more religiously than they did, others who would've given their left leg just to speak to their favorite pony, others who, in his honest opinion, probably deserved it more than them?

His eyes suddenly widened as realization struck him like an apple to the head; he could no longer see his room, lost to his thoughts.

_What… Then that would mean that Fluttershy, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie—wouldn't this mean that somewhere outside my house they're out there as well? _His eyes instinctively found his bedside window, staring past Applejack who seemed cutely befuddled by Moxie's exuberance. _It has to be… No, _they_ have to be. But the question is why?_

"Fascinating!" Moxie's voice blared out high-pitched, her face one of enervation and excitement as she quickly set aside her pad and pen, opting instead to reach out for a lock of Applejack's golden blonde hair. She ran a few strands under her nose, eyes closed as she inhaled.

For some reason lost to Zack, Applejack allowed this, moving only her eyes to stare at him with a small smile.

"Hawh...this here remind ya of someone, Summers?"

Zack couldn't help but grin at her question. Reaching over, he pulled a chair from under his computer and placed it next to Applejack, dropping down with his elbows to his knees. He damn near bit his tongue off when a sharp pain burst to life in his shin precisely where Jennifer had aimed a low kick at earlier.

His eyes crossed—his brain sputtered—he started to fall over—

The moment something gripped him by the collar of his shirt, Zack caught himself by slamming a hand to the ground. Shaking his head, he straightened up, his leg tingling with a sort of numbing pain, and looked over at Applejack who had yet to relinquish her hold on him, her eyes narrowed with concern.

"Ya'll alright, Summers?"

"Y-yeah, no—just… Yeah, I'm fine, Jackie."

It took only the moment the name left his lips for Zack to realize what he'd just called her. His cheeks flared up with a scarlet hue, his jaw tightened—he met Applejack's eyes and his heart stuttered when he saw how her eyebrows flew up in surprise—

"Oh!" exclaimed Moxie, scooping up her notepad and pen. "What's this? What did you call her—_Jackie_ was it?" Her eyes sparkled. "Is that some sort of pet name, a title of an endearing background mayhaps—wait! How long has Applejack been here with you, Zack? I'm guessing long enough for you come up with that nickna—"

Eyebrow twitching, Zack reached over, pressing his palm firmly over Moxi's mouth and gripping tightly. Unsurprisingly, she didn't seem to notice, or maybe she didn't care, because he could still feel her lips flapping as she sputtered out muffled words, her hand flying over the pad.

"I just met her a few hours ago," he ground out, rubbing his shin down with his free hand to relieve the pressure. "I—that name is just stupid, I was watching the show one day and it just happened—"

"Really, Summers? Shoot, Ah think it's cute!"

His hand fell away from Moxie's mouth and she continued rattling on without pause. It was all background noise to Zack as he turned to face Applejack who was smiling; something warm exploded behind his chest and for one wild second he felt like laughing, but the pain pulsing over every inch of his body choked the urge.

"That's… _Really_?" he asked, sidetracked completely.

She nodded, now observing Moxie with renewed interest, possibly wondering how the girl hadn't passed out from lack of breath. "Only Dashie's ever called meh that," she revealed. "Caused a right little stir as she said it was an accident, but Ah can't deny Ah... love it?" She hunched her shoulder with a sort of reserved smile and Zack felt sure the warmth from his chest had invaded his cheeks. Despite her orange skin-tone she really was….

He couldn't allow himself to finish that thought. It'd only muddle things—not to mention confuse the hell out him—and right now he needed answers. "Applejack," he started, trying his damnedest to ignore her smile, "what were you trying to tell me before? Something... bad?"

"Bad? Of _course_ it's bad!" Moxie exclaimed before Applejack could part her lips and the humanized mare tilted her head somewhat while Zack merely blinked. "What, you _have_ to ask? Clearly, if this woman claiming to be Applejack and the woman at my house claiming to be Twilight are to be believed, nothing—I repeat, _nothing_—good is going to come from this! Trans-dimensional creatures—creatures that shouldn't even _exist, _mind you—are arriving, actually _making themselves _manifest here on earth! This is beyond bad! Catastrophic might be a better word—abysmal, downright apocalyptic! But!" she added almost heroically. "That in no way means we can't record this strange phenomenon before crap hits the fan."

And she broke off to snatch up her notepad, which Zack was just now noticing had been nearly filled, no doubt with today's findings.

Applejack herself was laughing somewhat, waving both her hands in an attempt at calming Moxie down. "Calm yer apples, Miss Moxie, please, Ah just neeeennnngh—"

An almost guttural growl passed Applejack's lips, slurring her speech when Zack suddenly bent forward, burying his face in the curve of her neck; he felt the vibrations of her groan and heard her gasp as he flared his nostrils, inhaling as much of her scent as he could.

"I'd have to disagree, Mox. Likening her to a creature… No, creatures don't smell _that_ good," he said matter-of-factly, turning to Moxie who he saw was red-faced like she had heatstroke, her eyes wide. "What? What's wrong?" He turned to Applejack, stunned to see that her cheeks were just as flared as Moxie's if not more so and she eyed him with a half-lidded stare, one that caused his heartbeat to quicken considerably.

"That," began Moxie as Zack's lips floundered, "was rather enjoyable to watch! So it appears she's susceptible to such things is she? I didn't know it extended _that_ far, even if we both have gone completely insane—She has _normal_ female reactions! I—okay, what about this?" With one hand she scooped up her pen and with the other Zack could only stare when she wrapped it around the back of Applejack's head, dragged the befuddled woman in close, and almost mashed their lips together.

Zack's brain went out with an audible 'pop!' but enough synapses were left running for him to comprehend that yes, he had just seen that. And to be quite honest, as he watched the two of them break apart with Moxie looking accomplished and Applejack looking FUBAR in the mind, he didn't so much care and wished he'd known ahead of time so as to snap a picture of it.

"Okay! How'd that feel?" wondered Moxie, her lavender opals practically glinting as she stared the woman up and down. It was quite clear that she took no pleasure in her actions and only wanted to document her new 'test subject' further in all aspects feminine. "Be honest—ha, I think I made a pun, but seriously, be honest with me here, I need to document this for lat—"

"Just as Ah can see why ol' Summers was picked, 's all too clear why ya'll embody Twi. Lands sake, 's like yer her twin!" and Applejack rose, straightening her askew hat, and took Moxie's hand in hers. "Listen here, sugarcube—Ah'm flattered ya'll're so fascinated and whatnot but things need gettin' done and Twi needs ya wit' _her_. Okay?"

Applejack spoke as she led a very enthralled Moxie to the bedroom door and finished with the girl on the opposite side of it.

"Wait, wait, wait, you can't ask me to leave now!" Moxie protested, and Applejack sighed with a patient smile. "There's so much more I want to ask you! About Equestria, how you got here—what this 'bad' thing is, does it have to with the earthen military? I—oh!—have we finally managed to breach the fabric our _own_ reality and construct a stable bridge between our world and y—"

"Sugar, listen here," spoke Applejack she and placed a firm hand over Moxi's writing pad as she had been scribbling nonstop, "all these questions ya have, Twi'd be more'n happy to answer 'em fer ya, Ah reckon."

"But—" Moxie began sullenly but now Zack seemed to find himself and, as the pain in his shin had reached levels astronomic, only waved his hand to get her attention.

"You know what I've always wondered, Mox... how magic filters through Twilight's horn, what needs to be done to amass such huge amounts of energy, or whether it's done involuntarily. Like, if the brain recognizes a moment when the magic might be needed and begins the process—and then, what of the process? What _triggers_ the process if there is one and—"

Both Zack and Applejack jumped in unison when Moxie let slip a high-pitched squeal of rapture and she fled from the room without another word, her Mary-Janes clomping heavily over the foyer before the front door was pulled open and subsequently slammed shut.

When silence ruled, Applejack turned towards Zack and he looked up at her before they both began to laugh. "I was wondering if that would work," he grunted and he could feel warm trails of blood leaking from his nostrils. "Aw crap…."

As he slapped a hand to his face in a futile attempt at staunching the flow, Applejack began to smirk with a playful edge; she crossed over to him, pulling out a bright orange handkerchief and bent down until they were face to face. "Ah like 'em when they _bleed_," she uttered throatily and to Zack's clouded mind he thought she said 'I like their weed' but then she suddenly pulled his hand away and ran her tongue under his nose—

Zack shot back as though pushed. The chair began to tip over when Applejack lifted a boot and slammed it down between his legs, setting him upright. After one look into Zack's face it was clear the bloodflow had increased: it dribbled over his lips and dripped off his chin like a leaky faucet.

She leered at the boy, inclining her head to stare down at him almost dominantly. "Yer spurtin' a lotta blood there, sugarcube," she pointed out unnecessarily.

"Some women hit hard," Zack responded without any thought and he suppressed a groan when Applejack pressed her cloth to his nose. "And prease don't do dat again," he added, muffled.

"Do what, Summers?"

"Dat ding wit' your tongue. Don't do it again."

She lowered her head just enough for her stetson to shield everything except her lips from view. "Pardon, sugar...seein' a handsome stallion bleed jus' gets _mah_ blood boilin'…."

Being referred to as a 'stallion' didn't exactly thrill Zack considering this woman came from a world full of literal stallions but he did blink at being called 'handsome'. He flicked the hat up out of her face, using his other hand to lower the handkerchief. "Well...as long as we're being honest...I think you're pretty cute yourself, Jac—Applejack," he said, fixing himself at the end. "I… This whole thing right here—figures only you'd be able to turn an absolutely terrible day into one of the brightest I've ever had." He cracked a grin up at the confused woman. "I honestly hope this isn't some sort of weird dream. I think I'd lose my ever-loving mind if I woke up to find none of this happened, that I still had to go to school and fight in that stupid tournament and that you... that you never existed to call me 'sugarcube'…."

Applejack said nothing in response and there was an almost crushing silence within the bedroom as her emerald eyes bored into his own, hers clearly searching and his passive, wondering what on earth she could be looking for that a simple question wouldn't answer.

"So this's what the Princess meant," was what Applejack uttered when nearly a minute had passed and she sighed, smiling with a weary glint settling into her eyes.

Zack was confused. "Well, that was... random. Are you talking about Princess Celestia? What do you mean that's what she meant?"

He jerked when she leaned forward until their foreheads touched; her lips were parted, puffs of candied breath wafting just under his nose and he subconsciously inhaled, his heart fluttering.

"Don't... don't let me do it, Summers," she said suddenly and her voice was soft, cracking in the middle.

_What?_ Thinking was getting to be a terrible chore and doing so only amplified the pain in his skull yet Zack couldn't help but wonder just what in the hell this mare... woman... was talking about. He reached out, cupping his hand to her cheek and was slightly stunned as he ran a thumb over her freckles. He'd been expecting something rough, something not quite leathery but given that she worked out in the hot sun bucking apples maybe a little bit coarse. But this….

_I could stroke her all day_, he thought, realizing only after how that came across. _Keep your mind clear, boy. Now's not the time._

"Jackie... what are you talking about?" he asked slowly and clearly, lowering his head in an attempt at looking her straight in the eye. When they saw one another, he urged her with gaze alone to explain.

"Jus' promise me ya'll won't let me do it," she repeated, almost begged, and Zack would swear her eyes were beginning to glisten….

His throat dried out instantly, everything in his room seemed to bleed away till only he, Applejack, and the chair he sat on remained. "I… Yes. I promise I won't let you do it." He hadn't a clue as to what he had just vowed to do but after catching sight of the immense relief that flooded Applejack's face, he decided it didn't matter. "Are you okay now…?"

"More'n okay, sugarpie!" she exclaimed, once again pressing the now blood-soaked cloth to his nose; it was cold to the touch and he shivered. "But ya'll won't be soon enough, lemme tell ya." She stared him up and down. "Obviously you can take a beatin'. Good fer me, bad fer you."

Her sudden mood swing had Zack grinning and he swatted her hand away, taking the handkerchief and flinging it over his shoulder.

"Hey! That's mah favorite han—"

"I'll buy you another," he offered easily and she fell silent, pouting somewhat, "but you're leaving me with more questions than answers every time you open your trap, Applejack. What's going on around here? It's quite obvious that Twilight, Fluttershy, and the others are here, _on earth_, as well—but I want to know how and why," he pressed firmly. "What's going on?"

"...War."

"Beg pardon?"

"Yer not deaf, Summers. Ah said war is comin' and we're—meanin' me and mah friends—are tryin' tuh give yer species a chance at survival."

The first word that flew from Zack's mouth was "Shit". It was a natural, uncontrollable response when Applejack's declaration was mixed with the clear-as-day fact that she bore the element of honesty. And even if that only meant she couldn't lie very often or very well, this was something he knew she would not joke about.

"War." He knew what it meant and knew what it entailed. "You… B-but how? _Why_?" And he found the strength to stand, to grip the woman before him by the shoulders as his eyes searched hers intently. "I don't understand any of this!"

"It's… Everythin' is… It's all our fault, sugar," she whispered.

"Wh-what?" When she lowered her head almost shamefully, he lifted it back up with a finger under her chin. "No—no more hiding, Applejack. You've been hidden for far too long, just... just tell me what's happening. _Please_."

**XXX**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Flying blind has its merits.

Chapter 5: The Spark of War and Coffee

**XXX**

_Life had a funny way of pushing itself in your way, even if you weren't paying attention or you were and just decided to ignore it. Life always found a way to spice things up for better or for worse. And at the moment, I was having a hard time differentiating between the two. No more than a week ago I had been just a regular human, nothing special about me whatsoever, other than my ability to take pain. Why? Well, in order to tell you that story, I've got to start at the beginning._

_The beginning of our Sum-_

Zack shot up in his bed as though struck by lightning, chest heaving, eyes surging everywhere in their sockets. The clock on the nightstand next to his bed blinked the numbers _7:45_ and a little early morning sunlight trickled in through the blinds of his bay window. Putting a hand over his throbbing heart, it took a second for Zack to calm himself, gulping down mouthfuls of fresh air and wondering just what in the hell coaxed him to have such a bizarre dream…?

He had been a pony...being trained by Applejack-or rather getting the _shit_ beat out of him by Applejack...and then he ate some apple tarts and woke up….

_What…is my mind doing?_

Deciding it didn't matter, just a stream of uselessness, Zack exhaled and glanced over, his eyes spotting the figure of a woman wrapped snuggly in his covers, a woman with golden blonde hair and the most cutest case of freckles he had ever seen. Where the dream gave him cause for alarm, seeing this didn't so much as cause him to double-take. Merely admire. She was breathing evenly, her lips slightly parted, probably having an apple related dream.

He smirked at that, using a hand to gently brush a few strands of her silken hair from her face. At his touch, she let loose a soft sigh, nuzzling herself further into his pillow, totally oblivious to both the world and how her cute display caused Zack's heart to expand to twice its size. As beams of warm sunlight washed over the two of them, he took note of her skin: it was nowhere near as orange as when she first stepped into his life, settling into a more tanned persuasion akin to someone who spent their days out in the fields. Which fit, he realized, smiling. Her orange skin had been a side-effect of the temporal jump Princess Celestia and Twilight had put them through.

And concerning that, it had been three days since Applejack's declaration of 'war' and during those three days Zack had met up with the other five supposedly 'chosen', people who...oddly enough...resided within the same city as him. Apparently, according to Twilight, that was the reason why things were flowing so quickly now, because all the pieces had finally been gathered.

Six humans...the chosen bearers...were preordained to converge from around the world at the same time that Discord and his 'six' were to meet up as well, thereby turning Zack's home city into a verifiable warzone….

_We're going to have to fight_, he thought with a bracing sigh.

According to Twilight, who took to explaining every detail in an almost unnerving methodical manner, the Princess of Equestria had tried reasoning with Discord, multiple times even, sending envoys with peaceful tidings in an attempt at settling things in a practical manner.

Her response?

The skinned heads of her messengers, their eyes torn from their skulls and replaced by an arrangement of crimson roses. Zack could still remember the nausea that came with such morbid news… He hadn't expected such an atrocity capable of being attached to the villain of a 'kids' show….

After that, talk of peaceful agreements ceased.

Discord had played his hand.

And now Princess Celestia, in her own words, "would sure as hell play hers."

Without warning, he whispered, "You…Jackie, I'll keep you safe," as he continued to admire her sleeping figure, and he couldn't help his eyes when they began to wonder down her exposed neck, resting just on her collarbone, a view given to him by the fact that she was wearing one of his oversized shirts. On his honor as a man, he refused to look down further and instead slid out of bed as quietly as he could, wincing when the mattress creaked.

She remained silent, one of her arms subconsciously roaming the spot he'd just occupied, no doubt searching for him. Fastening the belt around his pants, Zack felt another tug at his heartstrings as he watched her search aimlessly. Was she dreaming of him…?

_Course not. Just wishful thinking…._

Smirking, he left the room and proceeded down the hallway, half-scratching at a spot just below his rear and half wondering just what in the hell he had done to deserve such a glorious blessing? Of course, nothing had happened between the two of them last night…or the night before…or the night before _that_, and looking back on it, Zack couldn't help but think he should have tried something. Anything. He regretted nothing of the subject as his mind had been plenty full of details ranging from meeting the other chosen and dealing with details of Discord's _ascension._ So much information, so much dreadful news….

_It's a dream. All of this is a dream, and you know it._

He couldn't help but chuckle at his mind's random outburst. He found it funny that even after all the proof presented to him (meeting Applejack, discovering the other chosen five, and then sleeping soundly with the aforementioned mare-turned-woman) his mind still sometimes tried to inject logic into the situation, like a way of diffusing things and bringing it down to a level of rational comprehension.

_There is nothing rational about this_, he told himself firmly, stumbling into the fairly lit kitchen with a yawn. In less than four minutes, he was stirring creamer into a cup of Hazelnut coffee, his eyes blank as they stared out the window above the sink. It was bright out today, a good day for running…or a picnic…

_Or just some quality time with Jackie,_ he figured happily.

_Quality time with something that doesn't exist,_ his mind shot back.

_For something that doesn't exist, she felt mighty warm under the covers._

_This is a dream. You need to wake up._

_So… if I technically just woke up from a dream, and now I have to wake up from _this_ dream… A dream within a dre—wait, what do you think this is, Inception?_

_It's a—_

_Shut the fuck up, mind_.

And just like that, he felt his mentality quell itself, all trace of doubt banished. This… all of this happening right now was real. Skepticism might have been warranted in the beginning but now it seemed downright childish to still think this was all a dream, or some byproduct of his strained mind.

He'd just brought the cup to his lips when his ears caught the heavy pair of footsteps thudding from behind. It only took a minute to figure out who it was and Zack turned, nodding his head in a greeting fashion. Standing in-between the salon-style doors was a man with an almost Herculean physique, dirty blonde hair a few shades darker than Applejack's, and an identical case of freckles adorning his rugged face. Sticking from his lips was a hay stalk, one he idly chewed on as he returned the friendly nod.

"Mornin', Summers."

Allowing the warmth of his steaming drink to perforate every inch of his being, it took Zack a moment to answer but when he did, "Well met, Big Mac, couldn't ask for a better day."

The rather large man smirked, lumbering forward with footfalls that Zack felt resonate beneath his bare feet. Drinking as nonchalantly as possible, Zack couldn't help it when his eyes rolled over Big Mac's human figure: the guy was built like a tank for God's sake; big, powerful, nothing but muscles…just like his original stallion form. And he was handsome, very model-esque, reminiscent of one of those guys you'd see nibbling on some woman's neck during a photo shoot.

He grabbed the coffee pot, a spare cup from the rack above the sink, and in seconds busied himself with simply drinking as Zack did, a comforting silence filling the space between the two men. Moments like this eased Zack's mind, allowed him to think everything was fine, even though 'fine' no longer existed.

"How's AJ doin'?" Big Mac suddenly asked, his eyes closed, and it was somewhat comical to see such a vast man holding such a small cup in both hands but Zack withheld his laughter and only grinned.

"Doing good, I'd say."

"Hmm." He nodded, then, "Seems she's taken a likin' to ya'll, Summers."

"I...don't know about that."

"Well, Ah do," he reassured, his voice low with an almost alluring rumble. "Ain't never seen mah little sis' hang 'round somepony like she is with ya'll."

_That's reaching like I don't know what_, Zack thought, and after a rather lengthy sip responded with, "But she's just doing that to help me. Ya know…to help me save my world from being decimated."

"Ah reckon she could help ya and not feel the need to stay at yer quarters, partner. Ah may be slow to talk, but if'n Ah can say, Ah'm darn quick in the mind." He allowed a little smile to grace his lips as he peacefully inhaled the aroma of his Hazelnut flavored coffee. "An' mah sis' don't favor the dim so ya'll must be smart enough to see what Ah see."

Choosing to focus on his drink instead of Big Mac and his teasing insinuations about a budding relationship that wasn't, Zack began to let his mind wonder. He'd spent the better half of two days thus far in Big Mac's admittedly reassuring presence, shocked to find that Applejack and the other mane five weren't the only ponies who had been...well..._humanized_ and sent down to earth to lend a helping hand.

As far as Big Mac knew the list included himself, Derpy, Lyra and Bonbon, Octavia and Vinyl, and Dr. Whooves. All of them were supposedly recruited as scouts of sorts, extra precautions where Zack was concerned. He had yet to see any of them but drew strength just knowing that they were around and ready to help.

In this almost unnecessarily wide expanse of a home, there was only Applejack, Big Mac, and himself. His Aunt and Uncle were fortunately away—_far_ away based on the postcard he received in the mail just yesterday. He remembered Applejack, bless her soul, throwing a little hissy fit about that, upset that his only remaining family would treat him in such a way and that family should stick together to coexist as one functioning unit.

Zack could only laugh at her naivety—no doubt born of Ponyville's nirvana-esque atmosphere—yet reassured her that it was fine, that he wouldn't have it any other way.

"What's so funny, Summers?"

Big Mac's question caught Zack off guard, so much so that he nearly dropped his mug. He'd been grinning to himself without realizing it.

And now Big Mac was grinning, a glint to his emerald pupils. "We weren't daydreamin' 'bout mah sister. Were we, Summers?"

_Son of a gun. _Zack cleared his throat. "You're funny, Big Mac." His voice came out more even than he could have hoped for. "I was thinking about how cute Applejack was when she got annoyed at my aunt and unc—my...m-my...what did I just say…?"

And now Big Mac was chuckling, the sound nothing short of a rumble, as Zack felt his cheeks flare up. He was beyond confused. He hadn't meant to say that, to say the _truth_, but it just...it just came out!

"The bearer of the Element of Honesty…'s gonna make lyin' difficult, Ah reckon," supplied Big Mac wisely.

Before Zack could respond, there came a rather small yawn and both heads turned to see Applejack leaning against the kitchen doorway, one hand to her mouth, the other scratching her hip. "Who...hoo-who's cute again?" she wondered, grinning through her yawn.

Unable to form even the simplest of words, Zack took to sipping his coffee while Big Mac bade his sister good morning. "Welp, Ah reckon Ah'll get back to trainin'. It's been awhile since Ah've been able to cut loose. Be a darn shame to miss it," he said patting Zack over the shoulder.

Applejack snorted. "If Ah didn't know ya any better, Big Mac, Ah'd swear ya'll were lookin' forward to this here war."

"Ah'm lookin' forward to settlin' an old score with Discord, sis'."

Zack forgot his embarrassment in the blink of an eye and set his mug down. "An 'old score'…? What're you talking about, Big Mac?"

The stallion-turned-human only tipped his head, offered an all too mysterious grin, then strolled out the kitchen through a side entrance that led to the garage, Big Mac's own little training area-slash-resting quarters.

"Him and his secrets," Applejack uttered after another petite yawn. "He won't tell me, either, the big lug…."

It crossed Zack's mind to give chase after the massive man but before he could put any action to it, Applejack was before him, throwing her arms his neck and pressing her lips to his for the briefest, sweetest contact he had ever the pleasure to feel.

"But enough about _him_. How's my fav'rite sugar doin' this fine morning?"

Almost without any thought, Zack wrapped his arms around the apple-scented woman and brought her in closer, eliminating the space between them. "I'd be better if you weren't here, Jackie," he answered honestly.

Far from being offended that he would say such a thing, Zack could tell after one sweeping glance of her beatific face that she understood what he meant, that he wished she wouldn't be here for this upcoming war.

Her eyes dropped into a seductive, half-lidded stare that caused his heart to throb. "Well, ain't ya'll just so carin'," she whispered, "almost makes me feel bad…."

"Hm? Feel bad about what?"

"_This_."

He felt something sturdy and thick fly up the space between his legs and snapped his knees together at the last second, eyes widening when he realized he almost lost his ability to produce children.

Applejack was grinning, the lust in her gaze all but snuffed out and replaced by a wild desire for blood.

Coming from her, though, there wasn't much difference in the looks as he'd found out in the days prior. This mare—woman...she really, _really_ adored a good fight.

"Good catch, Summers!" she congratulated genially.

And even before she leapt up with other knee, driving it deep into his stomach, all Zack could feel past the blooming pain was annoyance that he wouldn't get a chance to finish his cup of coffee.

_Best cup of hazelnut I've ever made_, he thought ruefully, sporting a smirk to match Applejack's as he parried her right hook, throwing out his elbow. He aimed for a clear face shot but she dropped to the ground, paused for only a moment, then rocketed it up for an uppercut that he sidestepped, laughing.

"Can't I finish my coffee at least?" he got out, dodging left and right, inching back a foot for each one she advanced.

"Yer coffee? Well, shucks, Summers, why didn't ya say so?" and inbetween elbowing Zack in the crux of his chest, she struck back at the counter with a leg, hooking her foot around his mug. "Here ya go!"

Time seemed to slow to a crawl when she whipped it at him, exerting a grace and precision that both stunned and excited him. He almost forgot to duck his head and heard the deafening 'crash' as it shattered against the wall. A flicker of anger managed to wind its way onto his face as speckles of wasted java splashed against the back of his neck.

"I wanted to _drink_ that," he clarified, grabbing her by the wrist and using his weight to spin her around. He slammed her none-too-roughly into the wall next to the kitchen door, taking a certain pleasure in her shocked gasp of pain. "_Apologize_."

"Oh n-no, see...Ah likes it rough," she grunted, and Zack wasn't sure whether it was her sudden grin or the Southern twang of her words but he felt his face flare up again. "Ya'll want an apology? Yer gonna hafta _earn_ it, Summers. No freebies 'round here!"

"Tch...gladly!"

So lost in the throes of combat, neither Zack nor Applejack noticed when Big Mac reentered the kitchen, pausing when his eyes caught sight of the two of them flying back and forth, trading blows, guarding and countering, slowly but assuredly heading out the main entrance.

He smirked, pointing to the only remaining coffee cup on the counter. "Eheh, fuhgot mah drink." He knew full well he wasn't heard over their yelling and instead reclaimed his mug, bowed his head, and left once more. "Talk about 'love taps'...heh."

**XXX**

A/N: Essentially, the first chapter was nothing but a dream, in case that wasn't obvious to some at this point. On the off-chance this gets dropped, might as well say there is no travel to Equestria throughout the entire story so take from that what you will, good or bad.


End file.
